The ground is a bit wet even inside the parking garage but we’re safe from the rain that just started, for now.
“You know I’m risking a lot being here,” I remind him as he locks his car with several beeps.
“You’re the one that said yes,” he reminds me in return.
I follow him through the garage and to the exit. The rain is drizzling down from the cloud darkened night sky, but Tommy doesn’t seem to care. He steps right out into it, jingling his keys in his hand the entire time.
I step out behind him and ignore the moisture collecting in my eyelashes and my hair. I don’t really mind it. The cold rain actually feels nice on my hot skin and I tilt my face up slightly to feel it on my chin. The rain starts to pick up however and we’re both walking faster and faster.
By the time we get to the front door of the building, my hair is damp and the rain is running down my chin.
Tommy opens the door for me and I step inside, following him up the stairs to the second floor and to his door. The corridors are empty, no one else coming in or out.
“Is this where you keep all the skeletons in your closet?” I ask him quietly as he opens the door after unlocking it.
He rolls his eyes and steps in first. I notice he takes his wet boots off by the door so I do too.
As he flicks a dim light on in the entry way, my eyes take in his wet skin. The droplets of water running down his neck and soaking into his shirt underneath his leather jacket.
His hair is wetter than mine, and strands of it cling to his forehead and the back of his neck.
My cock twitches inside my jeans and I ignore it as I close the door behind me and promptly lock it.
“You know it’s dangerous for me to be here,” I tell him. “Why did you push this on me?”
Tommy glares at me. “You’re not the only one it’s dangerous for,” he insists. “I didn’t push anything on you. I asked you, you answered, you got in my fucking car. If you don’t want to be here, then leave.” He waves a hand and walks down the short hallway to what I assume is the living room.
I follow him despite my anxiety at being here. Who knows if it’s bugged or who else could be here? Watching, waiting.
“I’m the one…undercover,” I remind him.
“And I’m the one working with your ass. You’re working with an entire family, two now, that want me and my entire family taken out of the picture. You could easily change your mind and decide you’d rather work for them than us.” He grabs a bottle of whiskey off a nearby shelf.
“Is that such a good idea?” I ask him.
He huffs and slams it down on the coffee table. “Don’t judge me. And don’t ignore what I’m saying.”
“I’m not,” I tell him as I sit down on the black leather couch facing the patio. There’s no TV in the living room, which I find strange for Tommy. I would have thought he was a big watcher of sports or at least some kind of television program. Instead, there’s a record player in one corner of the room and several shelves of vinyl records around the room.
“I’m not playing a game with you,” I promise him. “I’m not working with the Bianchi just for fun either. I…need to get them where it will hurt, Tommy. You have no idea how much is riding on this.”
He pours himself a glass and stands on the opposite side of the coffee table from where I’m sitting.
“Then tell me,” he says.
I shake my head and look at him from head to toe. Somehow, he looks even sexier than usual. Damp and brooding. His eyes are dark as he looks into mine with frustration.
“No,” I mumble.
“Why not?” he asks me and downs his drink in two seconds.
“You tell me why you invited me here,” I reply. My stomach tightens as I watch him set his glass down, and take off his jacket. Tommy throws the jacket onto a nearby chair and then stands there with his arms crossed.
“You really can’t guess?” he asks.
I lick my lips and my eyes find his biceps…shoulders… strong and broad. I swallow the saliva pooling in my mouth.
“Why do you think I agreed to come?” I meet his eyes, and I see something mirrored there. Desire, but also…guilt.
